


toothy grins and fragile swords

by orphan_account



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Bickering, Elves, Gen, Half-Elf Jaskier | Dandelion, Magic, Swords, Threats, awkward hand shakes, geralt is confused and tired, nonhuman jaskier, spells
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:35:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23510941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: A hand is offered to him, and Geralt, confused, looks at it with a crease of brows. He gruffly asks, “what?”Jaskier huffs and pushes his hand further into the witcher’s space and smartly says, “I’m doing what is called a handshake. You know when to hands hold and move together? A handshake. A hello.”
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 1
Kudos: 51





	toothy grins and fragile swords

The grin is wide and full of glistening teeth accompanied by a pair of pointy ears and expensive silks on the singer’s body. Geralt blinks his blurry vision and magic out of his eyed and tenses when he sees the wicked elf before him. The elf stares down at him from a big rock across the gentle body of water. 

“Welcome,” he purrs like a hand touching fresh milk. 

Geralt reaches for his sword but a distant chord is sung and his hand freezes. He is unable to move. A growl charges out of his teeth and the elf grins wider with amusement. 

“What do you want?” demand the witcher. 

The elf stops the chord (his hand regains feeling. feeling slips into his blood and through his heart), and the man takes a step forward, but the smiling person tusks, hand up. 

“Don’t,” he warns, a subtle warning crashing in his water eyes. 

Geralt listens to the being and stands rigid, waiting for the young man to attack. This isn’t his first time encountering elves, and he doubts it will be his last. He knows better to not retaliate, and watches with a sharp eye as the elf slides off the rock. 

The magic user walks gracefully up to Geralt and the damn grin grows bigger, all teeth now showing. Then, he swoops down in a bow and says, “welcome, Geralt of Rivia.” 

The witcher sniffs, smelling no fear but instead curiosity and burning soil. He says nothing. 

The grin (finally. it was unnerving him and was to...emotional) leaves and is replaced with a minuscule frown. 

“You may call me,” he pauses (lips turn, smirking - knowing. geralt is feeling. feeling. why?). “Jaskier.” 

A hand is offered to him, and Geralt, confused, looks at it with a crease of brows. He gruffly asks, “what?” 

Jaskier huffs and pushes his hand further into the witcher’s space and smartly says, “I’m doing what is called a handshake. You know when to hands hold and move together? A handshake. A hello.” 

Calloused hand hesitantly takes the other man’s hand with a glare. Jaskier smiles smugly, which totally wasn’t weird nor attractive - in fact, it made Geralt want to punch him (feeling. the feeling grows, grows. veins stretching across his heart.) The hand shake is short and ends with Jaskier saying, “thank you!” 

Jaskier pulls away swiftly and looks at his hand with wide glittering eyes. He mumbles something under his breath that Geralt cannot comprehend - it was in another language he knows but distorted and abnormal. The more he is around Jaskier the more he is realizing how not elf and not human Jaskier is. 

“What are you,” he blurts. Wrong and rude thing to say. Geralt at least knew that. 

Surprisingly, the man responds to it with am ominous ease, lilting, “a half-elf and someone you should be concerned about.” 

Geralt doesn’t understand so he repeats his earlier question: “What?” 

Jaskier sighs as if the witcher was a stupid fool who couldn’t even make a babe laugh and pushes his brown hair to the side dramatically. “Do you know why I called you out here, wolf?” 

Yellow eyes glare at the half-elf, clearly saying “you forced me here - fucking put me in a damn trance.” Jaskier huffs, annoyed with no one following along with him but slows down for Geralt anyway. 

“So I might have place you under a spell to come here,” admits the man and Geralt rumbles. “I want to join you, Butcher.” 

Geralt grabs his sword and puts it under the throat of the confident man who has that damned grin back on (and he feels. the veins tighten and blood is rushing. he is feeling. feeling. what the fuck?). Jaskier laughs. “Hit a nerve?” The sword licks the skin, and the man visibly gulps. 

“I want to join you on your adventures and sing,” the half-elf explains, “please, I’ll do anything! Being a shunned half-elf gets boring after a while and you,” he points at Geralt’s face or sword strongly. “are opposites of boring. Gods you’re so much more.” 

The sword falls down to his side, and Jaskier jumps into his space with lulling hum. The witcher puts a hand through his hair and sighs. 

“Fine.” 

Jaskier jumps in glee, and Geralt knows he’s going to regret this.


End file.
